


Make my blood boil

by WatermelonTuesdays



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angry Keith (Voltron), Angry Kissing, Angry Sex, Keith is 18, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Season/Series 04, Rough Sex, Sub Shiro (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-29 23:21:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15739377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatermelonTuesdays/pseuds/WatermelonTuesdays
Summary: Set before Keith joins the Blades.Keith and Shiro have a brutal training session, and then things really heat up.------Shiro was trying to push him.Keith had been fighting too well lately. Victory had been coming too easy. And Shiro just had to come in and ruin it all by forcing Pidge to upgrade the practice machines.“Come on, Keith. Focus.” The sharpness in Shiro’s voice stung more than the hard blow that just tossed him across the room.





	Make my blood boil

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!   
> It's been a little while since I've posted anything, so I found something I wrote a while back. My attempt at writing angry sex. 
> 
> This is younger Keith, back when he was less matured, and more wild and angry.
> 
> Hope you enjoy. :)

“Keith, you’re not paying attention,” Shiro’s voice was hard and commanding. It echoed through the large, empty training room, multiplying the older man’s voice. Frustration and disappointment seemed to swirl thicker in Keith’s ears with every reverberation. “I said to go to the side and then come up.”

“I know.” Keith spat back. He pulled himself up from the floor and faced his automaton foe again. “But he blocked me.” He hated when Shiro talked to him like this: all army commander and no friend.

“You just need to move smarter.”

“Is that all?” 

The robot was more than double his size, and fast. Usually large enemies were slow, but not this one.

“No, Keith,” Shiro sighed as Keith picked himself up from a hard landing for the third time. “Watch him. Anticipate his movements.”

“I am!” Keith’s voice was losing all pretense of calm. 

He didn’t wait for the protocol to reset. He stood and immediately launched himself at the looming machine. 

If he had his bayard this fight would already be over. Or his knife. His knife would wreck havoc on the robot’s circuits. But no, Shiro wouldn’t let him.

Keith was running before he had fully picked himself up. He screamed and threw himself full force, careening not for the robot this time, but for Shiro. 

He launched himself into the air, diving feet-first for Shiro’s waist.

Shiro didn’t bat an eye.

He raised his hands to cup Keith’s feet, twisting and lifting to toss the smaller man into the air with a flipping curve to soar up and over the shoulder of the robot.

Shiro hadn’t thought for a moment that Keith might actually be attacking him, and that surety made Keith even angrier. 

He dug his fingers into the thin crease of the robot’s shell and clung to its back. He scrambled to find a foothold, and when he couldn’t he pulled himself up through upper body strength alone. He lay his arm along the crease, pressing his elbow in to secure himself. He lifted his other hand to punch at the seam.

It took several punches, gripping tight as a spider monkey to the robot’s back, before he smashed a suitable-sized hole.

He wrenched his hand into the hard white casing and yanked back a handful of wires.

Keith expected the automaton to power down after losing such a large amount of connective wires, but the machine only lost the use of one arm.

The body spun quickly at the waist, flinging Keith against the wall.

“Again,” was all Shiro said.

Keith grit his teeth to stop from swearing at his mentor.

They were not going to stop until the machine was wrecked. Or Keith was wrecked.

Maybe not even until he was dead.

He made to launch himself off Shiro again, but he saw Shiro tense in wait, as if he were ready to spring back out of the way. 

“Bastard!” Keith said it loud enough for Shiro to hear.

“Language.”

Keith threw himself at the robot again and again and again, until finally the lights behind its ghostly white face went out and it shuddered to a standstill. One of its arms was strewn in pieces across the floor.

Keith lay, exhausted, amongst the rubble and caught his breath. 

“Good work, Keith,” Shiro said in a tone that introduced criticism. “But you’re relying too much on your strength and your speed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I not supposed to use my strength in a fight?” Keith’s voice was poisoned with sarcasm and anger.

“You need to use your head, not just your instincts or your weapons.”

Keith sprung to his feet, too angry to sit and be lectured. “I have to go.”

“Keith, I’m not saying you’re not a good fighter,” Shiro’s tone picked up an edge of exasperation as he followed Keith out of the training room and into the dark hall.

“You’re right! Because I’m a damn good fighter. I haven’t lost one yet, Shiro. What more do you want from me?!”

Keith pushed away even faster.

Shiro’s voice echoed and followed Keith down the hall, calling his name with increasing impatience.

“Keith!” The final cry was close behind him; it was the final warning call of a superior officer. 

Keith grit his teeth and clenched his fists.

“Hey, I’m just trying to teach you.” The tone of authority leeched from Shiro’s voice, but that just made Keith more angry. Using his voice, his command, to force the younger man to stop when it wasn’t even his intention to follow through was beyond unfair. And it was maddening.

And it was exactly why Keith grabbed Shiro by the arm with all of his strength and threw him in the nearest open door. 

He didn’t know what room it was, but it was cramped and dark, and that was all that mattered because Keith was in Shiro’s face now. He was done running, but he was far from done fighting.

Shiro’s voice had returned to normal, it was almost quiet when he said “That’s how it works, Keith. You win every battle. Until the day you don’t.”

But Keith wasn’t listening.

“You push too hard, Shiro!” His fists bit into Shiro’s shoulders and forced the older man back into the small darkened space.

“Keith, calm down!”

That did it.

Something coiled deep within Keith broke. He sprang forward with a bang. Shiro’s head knocked against something hard behind him.

Keith wanted to punch him. Wanted to kick him. Wanted to hurt him.

He wanted some kind of release from this spiraling, useless, bitter anger that surged through him.

But Shiro was still Shiro, and Keith couldn’t hurt him. Not like that.

Keith squeezed Shiro’s shoulders tight enough to bruise, forcing a shocked gasp from the older man’s lips. He followed it up with another sharp gasp as Keith’s sharp teeth landed on his collarbone. 

“Keith… what are you – ssssss” Shiro hissed as a hard knee pressed firmly between his legs. 

The air between them was suddenly boiling. Not that there was much room for air between them. 

Shiro reached for Keith, but Keith was faster. He took Shiro hard by the wrists and held them with one hand above Shiro’s head. 

He licked briefly at the marks he had left on Shiro’s shoulder then bit his neck.

“What? Nothing to say now, Shiro? Nothing to criticize?”

Shiro began to mumble Keith’s name, but Keith cut him off with a hard kiss that pulled the breath from Shiro’s lungs. 

A rough hand reached to press at Shiro’s growing length through the fabric of his tight pants. 

“You make me so crazy. Am I still not strong enough?” 

His lips were bruised. Shiro could feel it. So was his wrist.

A small whimper leaked from the back of Shiro’s throat. He turned away from Keith’s mouth and gasped at the air. 

The movement exposed his neck, and Keith latched on for another sharp bite before lapping at it softly with his tongue. 

His hand on Shiro’s length was bringing tears to the man’s eyes. Though maybe that was from the bites too. Keith couldn’t tell. 

“K-Keith…” Shiro was panting and desperate. 

His name, said in that tone, pulled Keith briefly back to reality.

He stepped back, eyes wide in the darkness, to look at Shiro, panting and trembling, pinned against some kind of shelving unit. Were they in a storage room?

What was he doing?!

His grip slackened.

Shiro noticed Keith’s sudden hesitance.

“More.” The word was somewhere between a plea and a command. It should have been comical. Shiro didn’t know how to say it, didn’t know which tone would spur Keith forward. 

Keith’s eyes squinted at Shiro, his expression dark. “You bastard.”

He swung Shiro so swiftly by his wrist that for a moment Shiro feared dislocating his shoulder. 

He landed, chest first, against the solid metal door. Keith twisted his human arm high along his back, making Shiro arch backwards in pain. 

Keith’s hips squared against Shiro, trapping him against the door. Keith’s hard cock pressed eagerly through the soft fabric of his training pants. 

Keith clawed at Shiro’s shirt. Dragging it up his side and over his head to hang from the arm Keith had pinned to his back. 

Sharp nails scrapped Shiro’s pec and dug along the scar tissue of his back. 

Shiro pressed his face against the cool metal. He had to remind himself to breathe. Keith was small, but so strong. So powerful. Violent. Cruel. Beautiful. Generous.

“I can fend for myself, Shiro.” Keith’s scratched his way below the tight fabric of Shiro’s pants to squeeze the hard cock firmly in his palm.

Shiro whimpered again. Loudly. His breath clouded the door in front of his eyes.

Keith bit at Shiro’s shoulder, then lapped at the salty sweat between the blades with agonizing patience.

Shiro moved hard and fast into Keith’s hand. The smooth warmth of Keith’s tongue, the cool bite of the metal door on his chest, and the bitter ache of his twisted shoulder all turned to background noise compared to the small, rough, gentle hand down his pants. 

“Ahh – fuck me, Keith!”

Finally, an order Keith could accept.

He removed his hand but Shiro continued to grind himself against the door. Shiro’s released arm swung automatically forward to frame above his head, relishing the cool touch on his bruised wrist.

He pulled Shiro’s pants down, hard. He didn’t bother to unzip them, and the material pinched and pulled as it was forced down over Shiro’s hip. 

The door was cold against Shiro’s burning, exposed skin. He cried out at the touch. 

Keith’s hands cupped Shiro’s ass and shoved him forward against the door. 

“Do you like that?” he taunted. He wished he could bite Shiro’s ear from here, but he settled for his shoulder.

Two fingers pushed past Shiro’s lips without warning, Keith’s hips returning to their task of forcing Shiro into the cold door.

Shiro sucked the fingers obediently, so Keith pressed them further in, testing his commander’s gag reflex. Then he pulled them free, split Shiro’s cheeks with the other hand, and pressed a finger deep and without warning.

Shiro took it easily, with a sob that was more happy than pained, so Keith pulled back and pressed them both in together. 

Shiro whimpered again.

That was the sound Keith was looking for.

After all this time, all that slow building anger to his commander, anger he could never act on, Keith needed this. He needed Shiro bruised and begging to be hurt.

He pummelled Shiro into the door, using his other hand to dig trenches down his back and along the side of his ass. 

When Shiro was almost ready to take his girth, Keith pulled out.

The sound of him spitting into his hand made Shiro gulp audibly in anticipation and press his fist down to his forehead.

Keith pumped himself once or twice, ready for Shiro’s ass like he had been waiting for it his entire life. Which, to be fair, he had.

Two thumbs spread Shiro wide, and then Keith pressed himself frantically in. 

He forced Shiro forward with a bouncing thrust. He pulled back and thrust again.

Shiro whined deep in the back of his throat, begging for more. 

Keith thrust a third time.

‘Fuck!” he cried, pulling out and stepping back.

“What is it?” Shiro turned, looking concerned. Not that he was concerned for Keith. No. He was concerned for his empty ass.

“I’m too short. On your knees.”

Shiro did his best not to look like he understood the problem: Keith’s legs were too short to reach and fill Shiro to the hilt. 

The slapping, pinching, digging grasp Keith lay on Shiro’s shoulder scattered all thoughts of insubordination. 

He twisted and fell to his knees with a hard bang. His mouth salivated at Keith’s strong, proud cock standing at his eye level. 

“Not a bad idea,” Keith said malevolently. He pressed Shiro’s chin down with a thumb, but he didn’t need to. Shiro’s mouth was already open and ready to take Keith’s length. 

Keith put his hands on the back of Shiro’s head and fucked himself into the waiting mouth. 

Now Shiro’s gag reflex was getting a work out. 

“You’d better get it nice a wet,” Keith threatened as he pulled Shiro back by the hair to examine Keith’s dripping length.

Shiro nodded with a hasty, “I did.”

“Good.’

Keith threw Shiro to the ground, and the large man caught himself just in time.

Keith positioned himself on his knees, pulling firmly on Shiro’s hips once, then twice, checking their trajectory.

“Please, Keith.” Shiro whimpered again. 

All this rough play and he still hadn’t cum. Shiro was getting weak from want.

Keith slapped him hard across his trembling ass.

“Nothing’s ever good enough for you, Shiro. Well, this oughta be enough.”

Keith slammed himself hard into Shiro without warning.

Shiro’s cry was guttural and raw, and he clenched his fists on the floor as he tried to keep himself up.

Keith hardly gave him a moment to adjust before he began his hard, unrelenting rhythm. 

There was not much room on the floor of the tiny closet. Keith rode Shiro hard and fast. 

“Fuck, Shiro. You. Take. Too. Much. You ask. Too much. So take it. TAKE. It. All.” Keith punctuated each word with a violent thrust. 

They rocked forward inch by inch, until Shiro’s face was nearly pressed into a shelf of strange Altean cleaning compounds. 

Shiro propped himself up on the shelves, clinging to the smooth metal with visegrip strength. He angled his body so that he fell down onto Keith. He speared himself deeper on Keith’s hard cock.

Shiro’s groans were all guttural now, while Keith kept up a litany of nonsensical curses with each devastating thrust of his hips.

“FUCK. Fucking. Cock. Sucking. Bastard. Bag of Dicks. Christ. Shiro.”

Keith let go of Shiro’s hips to pull at his hair with one hand, pulling the larger man back from the shelves. Only the hand on his hair, and Keith’s strong, grinding hips kept Shiro from falling to the floor.

His legs trembled from exhaustion and from the pent up orgasm that was screaming for release.

Keith spit in his hand again, and reached around to pull wild and reckless at Shiro’s weeping length.

“KEITH!” Shiro’s eyes were closed so tight they hurt. His face was tense. He could feel it building. Closer and closer. “Fuck me, Keith. Fuck me…” It wasn’t pleading. It wasn’t commanding. It was just the only thing left in Shiro’s overloaded brain.

But it fueled Keith.

His hips lost all sense of rhythm. He pummelled into Shiro haphazardly until he felt Shiro’s hot cum dripping down his fingers, and his tight ass clamp around him like it owned him. 

He drained himself into Shiro with a gurgling cry he had never made before. 

They kneeled there, stalk-still and panting, for a long time. Finally, Keith moved.

He pulled out of Shiro and collapsed back to sit on his feet. Then, with a weak gesture to Shiro, he lay back on the cold metal floor of the closet.

Shiro did the same.

They couldn’t stretch out properly in the small space, and Keith’s body half-lay on Shiro’s as they tried to create at least the illusion that they were laying comfortably.

Neither said anything for a long time.

Once again, Keith initiated things. He pulled Shiro’s hand into his own and played tentatively, almost sweetly, with the large digits.

“I’m sorry, Shiro. I know you’re just trying to help.” All traces of anger had vanished form Keith’s voice. It had spilled from his with his release.

“Keith I –” if ever there was a time for honesty, it was now, “I only do it because I care.”

“I know.” Keith looked abashed, though Shiro could only catch a glimpse of it around his sweat-lined black hair. “And I care about you too.” He brought Shiro’s fingers to his lips and kissed them softly. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Shiro was quiet for a moment, mentally counting his bruises and scraps from the small devil in his arms. “You didn’t hurt me any more than I wanted.”

“You liked it?” It was not an accusation. It sounded more like mild curiosity, but Shiro could feel Keith’s fingers tremble slightly in his own.

“I did.”

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” the words burst from Keith so fast it was like he knew if he didn’t say it now, he never would. “Well,” he amended, “not quite like that. That was more – intense – than I had planned.”

Keith twisted against Shiro so that his hip dug into the cold floor and his head threatened to rest along Shiro’s wide chest. But Keith kept his head up, looking down into Shiro’s dark eyes.

“But I’ve wanted you for a very long time. You’re so sweet, and caring, and strong – and I don’t mean physically.” He dropped Shiro’s hand to press gentle fingers to the side of Shiro’s face. 

The touch eased the tension that Keith has clawed and bitten into Shiro’s body, and he leaned into the touch like a kitten. 

“You’re beautiful, and kind, and…”

“Keith, I – ” Shiro closed his eyes to speak, but Keith hushed him with a soothing noise.

“Let me, Shiro.”

He opened his eyes to lock his gaze with Keith’s. Because Keith was the strong one. He was the on who could speak his mind. He was the one who could act on his desires, instead of hiding and suppressing them for months on end like Shiro.

“I love you, Shiro.” He laughed ruefully, “that might sound weird after all I just yelled at you. But it’s true.”

“I know.” Shiro’s voice was soft and his gaze was kind. 

Neither knew what to say after that, so they lay together quietly.

“Hey, lets get our clothes back on and go back to your room. I can take a look at your bites?”

Keith helped Shiro pull his shirt back over his head and buckle his pants before he slipped back into his sweats.

Before he opened the closet door, Keith turned to look up at Shiro. He reached up on his tip toes so they were closer to eye level and wrapped his hands around Shiro’s neck.

Shiro watched, wide-eyed, as Keith’s lips landed softly on his own. 

He knew what Keith was doing. It was the same thing Shiro did after a long hard battle, when he took the group to sit in the common room and eat ice cream and ease back into themselves. It was the care after the turmoil that bonded them as a team.

Now, Keith was caring for Shiro after putting him through his paces. Building a foundation for a relationship that just the two of them could share.

Shiro pressed himself into the kiss, letting it wash over him. 

While he was at it, he let the last dredges of his longing wash away.

His hopeless pining for Keith suddenly – miraculously – didn’t seem so hopeless anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr: WatermelonTuesdays


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